The Night Will Always Win
by JLO1996
Summary: From his arrival in the Mann Co. Civil War to his eventual ending, we cover How Lawrence Mundy, A.K.A 'The Sniper' made both Friends and Enemies during his time within the Team Fortress. Rated T for Eventual Violence, Language and Mature Themes, but nothing too explicit.


**The Night Will Always Win: A Team Fortress 2 Fanfic**

_Description:_

_I'll miss your stupid face, I'll miss your bad advice, I tried to clothe your bones in scratches, super 8s, exaggerated stories and old tunes, but never by the moon... - The Night Will Always Win, Elbow_

_Rated T for: Violence, language and Mature Themes, but additional reasons will pop up later within the storyline._

* * *

I arrived to the ticket office with my slip and showed the Ticketmaster both the letter I received and the empty ticket. The colours of his face had drained as he told me "There is no coming back once you ride this train, you understand?"

I nod at the man as I smiled, tilting my hat while telling him "I don't have much to live for, mate. May as well wait out my own death by enjoying what I do for a living."

He then nodded back and walked me to a discreet area away from the public eye. After returning the letter to me, he opened a nearby carriage and flicked open the emergency switches to the side of the tracks "And where did you get your experience from, then? World War 2? The cold war? JFK?"

I step into the carriage, placing my rucksack inside by a nearby crate and turned to him. "I did time as a soldier. The things that you see out there can change a man, either for the good or for worse. Forget the enemy, mate. The old bastards in charge of the battalions couldn't care for those who died, be it friend or enemy."

"But soldiers fight with standards, right?"

"Not in war. It's just another excuse for countries to cause un-necessary pain and suffering to the families of those killed in conflict. I have never met a soldier who has paid respect to the dead, and now war is just another excuse to turn good men into crazed gunmen. I did my part for my country; now I kill to pay my respects and get paid."

I stare into the man's eyes and for a moment, I believed I saw an image of death and destruction upon a battlefield within his hazel-brown eyes.

The Ticketmaster then looks at me with confusion. "So that makes you a crazed gunman too, then?"

"For Christ's sake, mate! Look, I'm not a crazed gunman, I'm an assassin. One's a job while the other's a mental illness."

He looks at me with a smile and says "But in the world you're about to step into, what will be the difference in that?"

He reaches for the door handle as I tell him what I told my old man a few days back; "A crazed gunman kills without dignity. An assassin kills with respect and honour, even if it IS out of greed. I'm a professional with standards, mate. Proper send-off and all that."

He smiles at me, and wishes me the best on my journey. The door is then closed, and the carriage is off on its journey to a destination I won't know. I take another look at the letter I was sent from an anonymous source a week ago;

* * *

_Mr. Lawrence Mundy,_

_We heard of your previous job involving the assassination on John F. Kennedy and while the dark world may be impressed of your handiwork, we on the other hand, do not._

_We know many things about you, Lawrence. Your parents who live on Adalaide Street back home in Australia, that you live in a camper van (This badly infuriated him during the first read) and that you have served a brief time as a soldier in what would eventually become Vietnam._

_However, we have enough details on you to track you down in any situation and you can no longer run from your past._

_While I do not run the government, I do however temporarily run a famous shipping company in Northern Australia once run by Michael Mann. However, he recently passed away and now his two sons James and Frederick, Both respective owners of the RED and BLU divisions of Mann Corporation have come to a dispute over who shall take over the business which has led to civil war._

_The company has a lot of power and money, Mr. Mundy. By working for us, we can guarantee that you can have your bounty wiped clean and your name cleared when you finish working with us._

_The objective is simple; Take decision over a side of your choice and work alongside them to overthrow the opposing company, therefore deciding which brother will become the successor of Mann Shipping Co._

_Be warned that if you do not take up our offer, there will eventually be consequences. The Pentagon is already onto you Mr. Mundy, and no doubt they will take hostage of those you care for dearly as a step closer to apprehending you. Should you decide to join our cause, however, your family will be kept in safe and reliable hands._

_A train transporting a shipping container will be scheduled to leave at 10:30am from __the Miami Train Yard should you decide to join us. The train will transport you to a Mann Co. Shipping boat which will travel back to Australia, Shipping you off to Melbourne where we will meet you to discuss arrangements. _

_Everything you will need for the duration of the travel will be stored in the container and the train takes off this Monday. Use the weekend to tie up loose ends and say your farewells before you leave the United States for the last time._

_We look forward to your response,_

_Ellen Mclain_

_The Administrator_

* * *

I look back at the letter. Wasn't Ellen a famous Opera singer? I didn't even know. I don't pay attention to the outside world anymore. Maybe that was half the reason I took this insane opportunity.

I look around the container which I was currently in. Cans and boxes of non-perishable foods and edible food had fallen out of a nearby cupboard. Close to my rucksack was a table with a few kitchen utensils placed in a way that suggested that a person was to be eating for dinner at the designated space.

On the other end was a small bed; A small bookshelf with Shakespearean novels and famous reads from authors such as John Steinbeck and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Opposite the bed was something I didn't expect to see; My 1963 Land Rover Series II Pickup. It certainly made up for the fact that I've been living in and out of different places.

But I also thought of another thing; They expected me to take the job. That meant I was meant to come along either way. What if this was a trap? What if they have kidnapped my family for me to get them to play their silly games?

What if they were out to kill me, and used this trip opportunity for bait?

But now that I look back at it, my life didn't really matter anyways. I'm a mass killer now, especially after murdering the President. And whether or not it was my job, I'm still a wanted man at the end of the day. Plus, the container had already been placed onto the ferry by this point.

At least I would die as Lawrence James Mundy, a man and a killer, but more importantly, I would die... As a Sniper.


End file.
